Did Not See That Coming
by EspressoEmpress
Summary: That whole "priest betrayal" thing all started because Seto got stood up... by the Pharaoh. No one is more surprised to learn this than their modern counterparts. Prideshipping. Thiefshipping.
1. Plot Twist

**Apparently the whole "ancient betrayal" was a tragic misunderstanding...**

**So, after Yami became his own person, Ishizu called him and Kaiba back to the museum to share a vision.**

**... she should've screened it first.**

**Small grammar edits.**

* * *

"This ancient carving depicts the three-thousand year rivalry between the Pharaoh and his own priest - on the right is you, Yami; on the left, Kaiba. Do you still have any doubt? Look at their monsters - the Dark Magician, and the Blue-Eyes White Dragon!"

Ishizu had a flare for the dramatic that might have made her a relative of Kaiba's. She was deferential in body, but in voice she was commanding and deliberate.

It was enough to make Seto roll his eyes.

"Please. We've heard this nonsense before," he said.

"True, but you were not both present when last I spoke with the two of you. My Pharaoh, show the tablet the three Egyptian God cards!"

Yami, looking uneasy, but not for the reason Kaiba hoped (disdain for Ishizu's nonsense), held up the gods with one, well-toned arm.

The pyramid's eye at the very top of the rock lit up, blinding them with an ethereal glow. Kaiba shielded his eyes with hand. He was partially aware of a nauseating feeling in his stomach - like he was riding on a standing roller coaster without a safety bar.

His feet had left the floor. Now, he was falling. He refused to open his eyes, but waved his arms around to account for a loss of balance.

* * *

His knees came into contact with a very uncomfortable floor, and he cried out in pain. To his right, he heard Yami make a similar exclamation.

With some trepidation, Seto opened his eyes. Slowly, the environment came into focus.

And just like that they were standing in a large, golden throne room.

"You want to explain this to me, Ishizu?" he asked. When he didn't receive an answer, he turned and realized she was no longer behind him.

"She's gone!" Yami said in surprise. "But where are we?"

"Your reign of tyranny ends today, Pharaoh!"

Seto's head snapped towards an impossible voice - _his_ voice.

It was himself on one end of the room, in a stupid blue hat, yelling at Yami, on the other end of the room, who was competing against the stupid hat with his much more ridiculous hair - and an admittedly impressive golden crown.

The golden throne lay between them.

"This must be the ancient battle Ishizu warned us about," Yami said, ducking around a servant to get a better view. They must have been invisible in this hallucination, because no one paid any attention to the two men in modern clothing who bore strange resemblances to the fighting priest and Pharaoh.

Seto followed.

The underlings had formed a ring around the two, sticking close to the walls. It wasn't hard to see why.

"Dark Magician!" shouted the Pharaoh, with a wave of his tanned arm. "Come forth and teach this ungrateful cur the meaning of respect!"

His puzzle glowed, and a giant stone tablet behind him rose, and released a familiar figure.

"My Dark Magician," Yami said in wonder, and Kaiba had to admit it was impressive, though not nearly as impressive as:

"White Dragon! Defend me against this coward!"

The priest raised his rod and brought forth the Blue-Eyes White Dragon. Seto, while still disbelieving, admired the sight. Even his Egyptian counterpart (if he really existed) was worthy of the beast.

And then he said this:

"Maybe this will teach you to ignore my advances!"

A pin dropped. Kaiba's ears went fuzzy with flowing blood. If a badass soundtrack had been playing during the movie equivalent of this scene, it would've stopped with a record scratch.

"What?" he and Yami said in unison, stone cold petrified.

"Priest Seto, you are indeed a fool if you believe I ignored them!" the Pharaoh replied, just as angrily.

For a second time, this time louder, the modern counterparts said, "What?!"

"Lies!" the priest shouted. "Not a day ago you abandoned me at the pier after promising to watch the peaceful river waves together!"

It struck Seto that he said 'peaceful' in the same tone of voice he might have used to say 'attack' or 'gym sock'.

"Be silent, Priest Seto! You have no right to judge me after you insulted my finest garments the day before!"

"I was right in doing so! They looked as though they were stitched from the stiff reeds of the Nile!"

"Do not lecture me in the school of fashion, Priest Seto!"

"Then I will lecture you in the school of economics, because after this battle you will have to buy yourself a new crown!"

"I'd rather a new crown than a resentful consort!"

The priest didn't have a comeback for that one. From Kaiba's experience looking at his own face, he guessed that the priest was actually hurt. He pointed his rod at the king.

"White Dragon! Destroy his Magician, reek vengeance upon him in the name of my broken heart!"

A large flash of bright lightning catapulted them back to the museum.

Kaiba swung around and almost threw up on the tile.

* * *

"That was unexpected," Yami said. Understatement of the century.

"Believe me, no one is more surprised at this than I," Ishizu was back - or at least, she hadn't left. She had a dumbfounded look plastered over her face that Kaiba found very gratifying.

"Well, at least now we _know_ you're full of crap," he said after he recovered. He broke a small silence only to start a longer, more awkward one. Heat flushed into his cheeks; they were both staring at him.

"You betrayed our kingdom because I missed a date?" Yami said. He was incredulous, but strangely, not on the verge of laughter, as Seto was afraid he'd be (afraid because if Yami started laughing, Kaiba wouldn't be able to stop).

"How is this my fault?" Kaiba wondered aloud. "This was a crazy hallucination, and somehow it's my fault the thing even happened?!"

With surprising patience, Yami said, "Kaiba, for the last time: our heritage is not a hallucination."

"All this proves is that you're a dumbass no matter the century!"

"And you're a child with a grudge the size of the Sahara."

"I do not have a grudge! Well," he amended, "not about that garbage. For totally different reasons."

Yami was his rival; he didn't need _this_ idiocy on top of everything else to justify hating him. Nevertheless, he got the distinct impression he had just dug himself into a large hole.

"This is all your fault," he pointed at Ishizu, who was still visibly confused about the vision - she was staring up at the rock like it had slapped her in face. Yami gave a snort.

"Do not blame Ishizu for showing us the truth of our past." Okay, it wasn't his imagination, Yami was definitely trying not to laugh. For a guy pretending to be a reincarnated Pharaoh, he looked surprisingly undignified, biting his lip and holding back tears.

"So, you _want_ that crap to be true?" Kaiba drawled, lacking his usual, lively cruelty. Instead he merely sounded irritated.

"What I want is irrelevant, the past is past. However, now that you mention it," Yami said with a small smile, "I do believe I owe you a date."

"Excuse me?"

"Chivalry demands I make amends whatever way I can, even if it was a mistake made three thousand years ago," he said facetiously. But despite the fact that he was shaking with concealed laughter, Seto detected an undercurrent of seriousness to Yami's statement. "I owe you the dignity of a real date."

"You don't owe me a damn thing."

"I disagree."

Seto was suddenly stuck: refuse the date by saying he - the _Priest_ \- was equally at fault, since the guy turned traitor because he got stood up. It was a lame excuse for trying to overthrow a nation. But his pride despised admitting to it.

He could accept the date to prove that Yami was entirely to blame, and bank on Yami being more embarrassed than him in that situation. But that would risk more exposure to the idiotic Egyptian heritage speech.

Or he could be an asshole, continue to insist that none of it was at all rooted in fact, and also refuse the offer. Two birds with one stone.

As if he knew what Kaiba was thinking, Yami closed his eyes, held up a hand, and said,

"Kaiba, accept the invitation. Be civil for once."

Kaiba frowned. "Civil? How about 'sane'. I'll take 'sane' over 'civil' any day of the week."

The Pharaoh - _Yami_ \- lifted an eyebrow.

"And besides," Seto continued, sounding more rushed than he intended, "neither of us are gay."

The second it left his mouth he regarded it as what is known in the business world as "a fuck-up of massive proportions". It was absolutely the wrong thing to say. The untainted silence that followed this bold, blatantly false statement was only broken by the sound of Yami's studded boot heel clicking on tile, as he adopted what can only be described as a "sassy" posture.

Unimpressed purple eyes raked over Kaiba's form, and the proud CEO had to admit… the trenchcoat and belts did give off _that_ kind of vibe.

"You want to take that one back?" the Pharaoh asked with a lazy blink.

Kaiba fought the warm feeling that was quickly rising up his neck. Was he really that transparent?

"Okay, fine. That was 'uncivil' of me," he muttered without looking Yami in his stupid, pretty eyes.

"Indeed; I daresay you offended us both," the Pharaoh said with a mischievous smile.

Kaiba cleared his throat and didn't dignify that with an answer.

"You're forgiven," Yami nodded. The eyes softened and became appealingly merciful.

"Would you like to go out?" he repeated. What was he expecting? Did he want Kaiba to say yes? More pithily: did he want _Kaiba_?

He blanched at the internal question and put a thick wall between himself and the answer he wanted.

Against his better judgment, Kaiba decided to balance his karma somewhat. And though he'd never say it out loud, and had only ever said it to _himself _on special occasions, Yami was slightly more bearable than his awful friends.

"I'm picking you up at seven o'clock tomorrow. Good night."

Maybe they'd find something interesting to talk about.

* * *

**Let me know if you would like to see more.**


	2. Facepalm

**Thank you for your feedback and appreciation. I am greatly enjoying this story.  
**

* * *

For half an hour, Seto stared at the contents of his wardrobe, arms crossed over his chest, before deciding on his everyday black pants and turtleneck. There was very little reason to dress differently. It was one date. With his rival. That fact had taken a while to fully sink in, hence the half-hour staring contest with the interior of his closet. He grimly appreciated the symbolic meaning the closet now held.

He flicked his eyes to the mirror; his slim profile pulled the look off well, as always.

But something he _hadn't_ considered: what if Yami out-dressed him? He couldn't allow that. Perhaps a suit…

Kaiba shook his head, flipped through his hangers one more, insecure time, and pulled his hand back. He was fine. He was not nervous. He would dress normally, and that was that.

* * *

Yami was by the front door of the game shop, not so much standing as he was existing, emanating pure confidence. He had traded his school uniform for leather pants and a black, sleeveless shirt. Kaiba felt the need to cough and look away. He almost forgot to brake.

The car came to an abrupt stop, and Yami climbed in the passenger seat with barely a "hello". He crossed his legs and sat ramrod stiff in the seat.

"Where are we going?" he asked respectfully.

Kaiba relayed the name of the restaurant, and Yami nodded. When blue eyes stole a sideways glance at him, he was calmly gazing out the tinted window. But with another quick flick of his eyes, Kaiba saw Yami's hands clenched tightly in his lap. Apparently they were both anxious. Kaiba took momentary solace in that fact.

The car pulled in front of the restaurant, sloppily taking up two spots. It earned him an irritating car honk from behind. The two rivals exited the car and walked stiffly through the front doors.

"Kaiba," the CEO told the hostess, who checked the registry, offered a wide smile, and lead them to a secluded window seat.

Kaiba quickly pulled down a shade. He would not be seen having dinner with his sworn rival. Yami picked up a menu and looked over it; the movement was laced with tremendous casualness, as though he did something like this everyday.

"Hello, I'm Lucy and I'll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with-"

"Just water," Seto interrupted. She took it in stride and turned her head to Yami.

"Small coffee," he said.

Kaiba raised an eyebrow. Did Yami plan to be up the whole night? His mind ran wild with the implications of that thought.

The waitress toddled off and left them in total silence.

Under the guise of observing the items on the menu, Kaiba distracted himself with thoughts of dueling. Yami must have been doing something similar, because he was completely still until Lucy brought their drinks.

"Ready to order?" she asked.

Kaiba harbored an intense, irrational fear of ordering something that sounded undignified, but also didn't want to order something pretentious. It also couldn't be messy or indulgent.

"Steak and potatoes," he muttered, handing her the menu.

"What he said," Yami said. Maybe he couldn't think of anything either.

"I'll be back in a minute," she smiled.

That left both of them without a shield, so Kaiba found himself sharing long, uninterrupted eye contact with the man across from him.

Seto folded his hands and propped them up under his chin, staring at Yami over his knuckles, daring him to blink. The Pharaoh met the challenge. His eyes were an astounding purple, deeper than Yugi's; two large amethysts with stars for highlights.

It was only Seto's immense self-control that prevented him from doing a physical double-take.

Stars? _Stars?  
_

The bottom dropped out of his stomach.

Yami broke the eye contact with an almost-audible snap, and accepted his plate from the waitress - Seto hadn't noticed her approach. He grimaced and took his plate, tried not to watch Yami chewing.

Kaiba tried not to rush, but finished eating first.

"You've been quiet," Seto couldn't help observing. "Not that I mind."

Yami put a deliberate hand to his lower chest, and Kaiba recognized it as where the necklace - puzzle - had once been. "Yugi" had it now.

He muttered something about a "joke".

"What?"

Yami's eyes darted to him, as though contemplating whether to repeat the statement.

"It feels like a cosmic joke. What I - we - discovered yesterday." He picked up his cup and stared at the black dregs in the bottom. "Now I know my past. It feels anticlimactic."

Seto resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead took a more diplomatic approach. He was feeling charitable today.

"After three thousand years, any answer would have felt anticlimactic," he said.

"Perhaps."

More stale silence. It had lost its appeal.

"Yami, are you disappointed?" Kaiba drawled.

The Pharaoh gave a noncommittal shrug of his small shoulders. The gesture made him snort in irritation.

"Please don't be frustrated with me, Kaiba," Yami said, but he was far away.

He wondered why Yami valued his disapproval.

"I'm not frustrated."

"You're always frustrated," he smirked.

"No I'm not," he snapped. Yami's eyebrows shot up, and he swirled the insides of his cup with satisfaction. Kaiba felt his own insides move with the remains of the Pharaoh's coffee.

"Stop smiling," he grumbled.

"As you wish."

Kaiba sighed. "Why do you always talk like that?"

"Like what? A spirit from ancient times?"

"Like Hamlet, or Jay Gatsby."

Yami tilted his head, hair moving like palm fronds. "Who?"

"Yami, do you even read?"

"In the past three thousand years? Not often."

"Well that's a deal-breaker." Seto's smirk returned.

"And we were doing so well," came Yami's dry reply.

Kaiba considered a shot back, but found himself saying, "_I_ thought so."

The Pharaoh ran a hand through his blond bangs with such grace Kaiba had to give an unconvincing cough and cross his legs.

"Well, if it isn't the Pharaoh and Kaiba! How are you?"

Kaiba flushed and put a finger to his temple. He recognized that voice. "Please tell me it's not…"

"Marik! What are you doing here?"

"_I_ am on a date," he said proudly.

Sure enough, the improbably-blond, effeminate Egyptian was standing at their table, his arm around a familiar white-haired villain - Bakura, who looked about as ticked off as Kaiba.

"Marik, we came here to eat, not speak to the Pharaoh and his consort," he said in clipped British.

"I am not his consort!" Kaiba spouted indignantly.

They ignored him and followed a hostess to their table. Seto was of the opinion they couldn't go far enough away.

"What the hell was that?" he muttered.

"Apparently the thief king and the tomb keeper are here as well. I always _thought_ they were close," Yami chuckled.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Don't you find it odd that Domino has a larger concentration of homosexual men per capita than any other city in Japan? First Duke, then Joey, the two of us, and now them? I find it amusing."

"I don't think it's very funny. Marik tried to kill you, and Bakura tried to overthrow Egypt."

"So did you, as I recall," Yami shot back with a half-smile. "What can I say? I'm very forgiving."

Kaiba didn't have a comeback for that one, so he glared into his glass. He almost choked when he realized he hadn't outright denied Yami's assertion about his sexuality. Oops.

How was Yami acting so much more collected and sharp than him? Was it only Seto's imagination, or was he really not up to his usual level of indifference?

Lucy came back and asked about dessert. Kaiba prayed to those stupid gods that Yami wouldn't get anything. It had been hard enough to avert his eyes from the workings of his rival's mouth when he had had his _own_ food to worry about.

"No, thank you," Yami said. Kaiba exhaled in relief.

"Then here's your check," she grinned and sauntered away. Funny how she had assumed they wouldn't be splitting the bill. Hopefully she wouldn't brag about seeing the president of KaibaCorp on a date with the King of Games.

Yami took a card from his pocket, signed on the line, and shut the small folder.

Kaiba had expected it to sting his pride, but not to this degree. His nose twitched. He disliked being taken care of, and for his rival to be doing the caretaking? Unacceptable.

The waitress was already coming back. Kaiba snatched up the check, put his own card in the slot, and crossed out Yami's signature.

"Here."

She took it with an understanding nod.

Kaiba tossed Yami his credit card. The Pharaoh looked at him in curious disbelief.

"You don't owe me anything," Seto said defiantly.

Yami smiled. "You are such a child."

Under normal circumstances, that would have justified a nasty diatribe back, but since the world had already turned upside-down, Kaiba said, "I'm not as bad as that priest."

"Not at all. You're much worse," Yami smirked. "At least Set was honest when it came to his feelings."

"You were doing fine just a second ago, and suddenly you bring up feelings?"

"You think 'child' is better than 'feelings'?"

"As a general rule _anything_ is better than feelings."

"I rest my case."

Kaiba snorted.

"Kaiba, I apologize for not being talkative tonight."

"I consider it a reprieve."

Yami's smirk turned into a grimace. "I am very lost in thought."

Recognizing it as a baited hook an instant too late, Kaiba asked, "What are you thinking about?"

The Pharaoh didn't reply right away, but not because he didn't know what to say. Seto knew that look - the look of someone plotting out every small word with careful precision, organizing with startling deliberation. He'd seen that look in the mirror every morning for the past fifteen years.

Yami's eyes refocused into their piercing, purple hue.

"Here you are." The voice made Kaiba jump; Lucy had returned with his credit card.

He glared at her; Yami might have actually said something interesting if she hadn't interrupted.

He drove Yami back to the game shop, and afterward drove himself home. He walked up the stairs to his room, shut the door, sat on his bed, and stared at the floor for hours.

* * *

**Are you wondering how Bakura and Marik's date went? Because I am.**


	3. Facepalm (Again)

**The restaurant, once more.**

* * *

"Marik, we came here to eat, not speak to the Pharaoh and his consort," Bakura snapped. Marik smiled.

"I am not his consort!" Kaiba griped indignantly. Bakura rolled his eyes and decided replying with, "Yeah right" wasn't worth it. The hostess guided them away from the Pharaoh's table to their own on the far side of the restaurant.

"Excellent, thank you my dear," Marik said. The woman smiled and gave a little bow before shuffling off. Marik's hand slipped off Bakura's shoulder as they took seats across from each other.

"Well, Bakura, what do you think?" Marik threw his arms to either side, slapping a passerby in the face. When the man looked like he was about to throw a harsh word back, Bakura brandished his ring subtly, and a small glow made the man forget his qualms.

"Yes, I do like the atmosphere," Bakura said.

"Are you being honest this time?"

"Marik, when have I ever lied to you?"

Marik threw his head back to laugh. Bakura joined him in dark chortles momentarily before a waiter approached to ask for their drink order.

"Earl Grey," Bakura said.

"Root Beer, please."

Bakura picked up a menu.

"Excuse me?" a woman encrusted with diamonds leaned over from her table. "I love your necklace - where did you get it?"

"Egypt," he said with his favorite irritated expression. He glanced over the entrees.

"Oh Egypt is lovely; I've been three times! The hieroglyphs are beautiful; I could stare at them all day," she admired. "Is that the Eye of Horus in the middle?"

"Quite possibly." His eye twitched. If she liked hieroglyphics, she would love the Shadow Realm.

"It's a symbol of protection and good health, you see," she droned.

"Fascinating." _So it will be twice as ironic when I kill you with it._

She saw his disinterest and leaned back, sparing her life for the moment. He made a mental note to speak to her again after the meal.

"Your drinks, gentlemen," the waiter returned. Bakura hooked his fingers through his cup and took a dainty sip.

"Are you ready to order?"

"Green tea linguine and boiled potatoes. Oh, and a large bowl of your finest truffle oil," Marik said with a straight face.

"Sir, I don't think that will be possible," the waiter replied after a nervous chuckle. "Would you prefer something on the menu?"

"No, I think you'll find I'm quite serious." Marik gave a subtle, under-the-table swish of his Millennium Rod.

And an abrupt about-face later, the waiter said, "Absolutely. I'll be back in a moment."

Marik snickered, "He won't be coming back."

Bakura rolled his eyes. His ring flashed and flagged down a passing waitress. She set two plates down.

"Bollocks - I hate lasagna," he grumbled as she floated away.

"Here, take… whatever this mess is," Marik offered. They switched plates. Bakura took a careful bite.

Marik shoveled the lasagna in his mouth with all the restraint and refinement of a six-year-old on drugs. Bakura gave him his patented withering look and took another sip of tea.

"I certainly hope you don't expect me to kiss that disgusting mouth of yours," he said.

Marik froze comically like a deer in Bakura's headlights, adjusted his posture, and wiped his mouth.

"You don't have to be impolite."

The Thief King raised an alabaster eyebrow and took a moment to remember the people he had killed to get this reservation. Strange that impoliteness was so high on Marik's list of priorities.

"Neither do you," Bakura smirked. The blast site masquerading as pasta on Marik's plate earned a frown.

"Come on, Bakura, we're here to have fun, not berate my table manners," he chided.

"Well maybe _you_ aren't…"

"Waiter, can I please have another fork? This one is defective."

A waiter rushed over. "What is wrong with it?"

"It has these four prongs; I require a fork that is rounded, without any points."

"Sir, do you mean a spoon?"

"No, I mean a fork without points."

"Aren't all forks pointless in your hands?" Bakura said with a roll of his eyes.

Marik cackled and took a spoon from the disgruntled waiter.

"Marik you are diabolical," Bakura sighed in disappointed sarcasm.

"You know you love me," he grinned.

Caramel eyes snapped to attention and examined the nonchalant tomb keeper. It struck him instantly that Marik only meant it as a throwaway comment unworthy of a response. But it triggered an intense reaction in Bakura's head. He felt something fizzle, like a snuffed candle.

Marik was an insufferable, loud idiot. He was the last person Bakura ever expected to spend time with. But then, they had good hair and evil laughs in common. They both hailed from Egypt. They carried Millennium Items. They both had tried to overthrow the Pharaoh - and even though Bakura had tried twice, they still shared the same success rate of zero.

From the outside they looked like opposites, but from Bakura's position, they appeared to be more like mild complements. Objectively they looked good, or at least interesting, together.

What remained was Bakura's opinion.

His lack of hatred towards Marik was surprising, and might have been a clue. Marik's intimate presence wasn't undesirable.

He was indifferent towards to idea of being in love with Marik. Indifference was as close to love as he had come, thus far, ergo it was at least worth an honest try.

He mused and tilted his head to the side.

"Marik, despite my best efforts, I cannot hate you. It's very frustrating," he said. He looked, unblinkingly, at Marik over his tea.

After a small pause, Marik made an obscene exclamation:

"Bakura, that's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me!"

"Keep your voice down!" Bakura cast furtive glances left and right.

"Bakura, I love you too," Marik said, and it was difficult to tell whether he was kidding or not.

Bakura's eyes flickered to the ceiling. "Of course you do, Marik."

"I'm serious this time!"

"Are you really?"

"Aw, are you feeling insecure? Come now, let's go pretend to be street performers and see if people give us money."

He stood up.

"How does pretend breakdancing differ from actual breakdancing?"

"Because when we do it, we break _other_ people's necks, not our own."

Though there were certainly more practical ways to acquire money, Bakura knew they wouldn't be nearly as amusing.

"Very well."

They left without paying and, draped in stolen diamonds, proceeded to harass innocent people on the sidewalk.


	4. Thinking

After the date, Yami spent the night wrestling with his sheets and failing to fall asleep. He regretted that his restlessness kept Yugi awake as well, but it couldn't be helped. They slept in different beds, but Yami's discomfort sparked across their spiritual link, and Yugi's discontent bounced back.

"Yami." Yugi sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes. Yami sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Tell me what's going on."

Yami's brow creased. The thoughts in his head were formless and disjointed. There was no way to give word to them.

"I can feel your confusion," Yugi said.

If Yugi could feel that, could he feel its source as well? Yami swallowed.

"Don't hide from me. Please, let me help."

"Yugi, if you could help I would tell you," Yami grimaced at the ceiling.

"That's a stupid excuse."

"Yugi, I simply don't have the words."

"Just try."

Yami inhaled and exhaled ten small breaths.

"You know I visited Ishizu the other day."

"Yeah; you never told me what she said."

"She showed us a vision of our past," he murmured.

"Us?"

"Kaiba accompanied me."

"What did you see?"

"The details aren't important. It was just… something I wasn't prepared for."

Yami let that sit for a long moment before adding,

"The priest, Set, and I had a history."

"What sort of history?"

"The sort that is awkward to discuss." Because it was embarrassing, as well as unforseen.

"Oh." Yugi's mouth formed a small "o" and sent a pang through Yami's stomach. He pushed through his next sentence.

"Tonight, Kaiba and I went on a date," he said stiffly. He felt Yugi's cautious confusion.

"How - how did that go?"

"I was pensive and distracted. So, not well."

Yugi was quiet for so long Yami believed he had gone back to sleep.

"Yami, do you like Kaiba?" he asked with great care.

"I do not know." It was formal, distant, and unintentionally wistful. _But I would like to find out._

"I heard that," Yugi said. "So, go on another date!"

"Yugi, if this one went poorly, why should the next be any better?"

"Are those the words of a brave Pharaoh who tamed the gods of Egypt?" was Yugi's sardonic reply.

Yami swallowed. They _were_ the words of a coward, but was he truly afraid of confronting Kaiba in a romantic capacity? Yes, he was. He was terrified. Kaiba was intimidating, not because of his height or intellect, but because he held emotional influence. Kaiba was a potential "consort", he thought with a smirk. He possessed the potential to enhance or destroy Yami's self-confidence.

"Yugi, I am afraid."

"Afraid that it won't work out?"

"And afraid that it will. What will my life become if Kaiba is suddenly thrown in the middle of it?"

"You won't know if you don't try," Yugi grimaced.

"Yes, I was afraid you'd say that."

* * *

Kaiba poured himself a third cup of coffee and shut his eyes to drink it down. He had "woken up" that morning only insofar as he decided he was sick of lying in a semi-conscious state on top of his sheets. The cup in his slender fingers reminded him of Yami's coffee from the previous night. Seto wondered if he had had a sleepless night as well.

Reluctantly he returned to his desk and resumed his work.

Several minutes later, his phone rang.

"A Mr. Muto on line 1, sir."

He sighed. "Put him through." He'd been expecting something like this.

"Kaiba?"

"Yami. What is this about? I'm very busy." He wasn't actually.

"I apologize for interrupting. I will make this brief."

"Alright then."

The smallest fraction of pauses before-

"Would you consider going on another date tonight?"

Kaiba considered the offer.

"With me," he needlessly clarified.

"Why?"

"Because it's our-"

"If you say "destiny" I'm hanging up."

"Fine. Then… I'd like to give this one more try."

Kaiba blinked. "I'm listening."

"Kaiba, I believe this deserves a second chance."

"What's 'this'?"

A small pause. "A potential relationship."

He hung up.

* * *

Yami waited five, head-banging minutes before calling again.

"Kaiba-"

"Yami, you clearly don't know me at all if you think relationships are worth one nanosecond of my time."

"Then was last night just charity work?" Pharaohs could joke too.

"No. That was me letting you embarrass yourself."

"I accomplished that rather effectively _before_ you paid for dinner."

Yami heard Kaiba frown into the receiver.

"I must admit, it was a romantic gesture-" Yami regretted the prod an instant later.

Kaiba hung up the phone again.

* * *

Yami slammed the cellphone down on the nightstand. He massaged his forehead, marveling at the CEO's immaturity.

"Yami!" Yugi called from downstairs. "You've got a call!"

Purple eyes snapped open, and Yami sped out of the bedroom.

He took the corded phone from Yugi's hand.

"Hello?"

"I'll pick you up at seven."

Then…

"You're paying this time."


End file.
